


Among My Fallen Neighbors

by wanderingsouls



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Humor, M/M, Morbid, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse, and then there are som sweet fluffy stuff, im sorry im bad at this, it really is mostly dark and intesnse though, like it gets intesnse, with the fluff to sweeten things up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-10-12 01:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17458082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsouls/pseuds/wanderingsouls
Summary: On the first day, it was like a nightmare had ripped through the dimensions of everyone’s dreams into reality when Lance saw the footage of the hospital.The reporters had been warning the viewers in advance to stay calm for what was to be shown and that the Garrison was doing everything they could to put an end to It. But what was It? What nightmare was wreaking havoc?Had it not been stated it was a hospital, Lance wouldn’t have recognized where the footage was taken. The doors were barricaded shut with military gunning down groaning bodies and limbs attempting freedom through broken windows. Sporadic hands scratched their way through glass and door gaps; blood smeared onto the doors from crimson lips, soaked hands, and clothes. All while Lance, his family, and the rest of the world watched each thing fall.





	1. Forgive Me

**Author's Note:**

> If you couldn't tell from my terrible story telling, this is a Zombie Apocalypse au!
> 
> : D
> 
> I've had this in my drafts for a while and am, admittedly struggling to write the pieces I want to share. But I will try! It's pretty dark in my opinion which surprised me despite the au and my grammar, as always, is bad.
> 
> I hope it somehow makes sense and you enjoy it! :)

     On the first day, it was like a nightmare had ripped through the dimensions of everyone’s dreams into reality when Lance saw the footage of the hospital.  
  
     The reporters had been warning the viewers in advance to stay calm for what was to be shown and that the Garrison was doing everything they could to put an end to It. But what was It? What nightmare was wreaking havoc?  
  
     Had it not been stated it was a hospital, Lance wouldn’t have recognized where the footage was taken. The doors were barricaded shut with military gunning down groaning bodies and limbs attempting freedom through broken windows. Sporadic hands scratched their way through glass and door gaps; blood smeared onto the doors from crimson lips, soaked hands, and clothes. All while Lance, his family, and the rest of the world watched each thing fall.  
  
     It was horrifying to watch, what looked like people, crumble to the ground or keep walking. It was so disgusting to see their bloodstained bodies through a rain of bullets that Lance threw up on the spot.  
  
     After the image faded from the screen, Lance’s mother coming to his side, Lance could faintly hear General Iverson through his families’ frantic commotion.  
  
     “They are monsters. Be careful."

  
  
*** * ***  


     The days that followed were worse than the day before; full of worldwide panic.  
  
     Markets were packed with people trying to get as much food as they could, fights and robberies, the anxiety of being told to stay home until further notice. Homes of mayors and other higher authorities were swarmed with protests of people demanding answers. Being told to stay calm and listen to their words only rose more questions. The only reliable source of assurance came from the Garrison.  
  
     Within the first month, the Garrison sated the panic with a broadcast.  
  
     They claimed they had scientists working day and night looking into the deranged people. Each outbreak and attack that followed the hospital had not gone unnoticed.  
  
     “We are studying this new outbreak from the attackers and those that have been harmed to solve this mystery.” Spoke a familiar looking scientist. But not even two weeks since those words did things get worse.  
  
     It was as an outbreak, but one unlike any other. These people were infected with an unknown pathogen that caused them to turn crazed cannibals with lifeless eyes and a complexion that mirrored the dead. They showed no signs of intellect or verbal conversation that proved they were human.  
  
     And there was no way to treat it.  
  
     But the Garrison still tried. Radios, televisions, and phones rang with the same message,  
  
     “We want everyone to listen.” Spoke General Takashi.  
  
     “There are camps set up in the East Coast. All civilians are to make their way to either Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island for refuge. I repeat, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island. From there, we will move to Canada.”  
  
     “While there, scientists will be staying at the Galaxy Garrison to continue their research and put an end to this mess. We ask all students on or off military duty to return to the Garrison to aid in transferring civilians. Again, all civilians must go to Massachusetts, New Hampshire, or Rhode Island. We will make it through this, everyone.”  
  
     When the message ended, it was like the whole world was holding their breath.  
  
     “I need to start packing.”

  
  
*** * ***

  
  
     “Don't go.” The shirt rolled in Lance’s hands fell and unfolded in his duffel bag as his mother walked over and took his hands.  
  
     “Mama, I have to go.” Lance sighed, turning to look into his mother’s pained eyes.  
  
     “The Garrison needs as many people as they can get to help all those people,” Lance told her, removing his hands from her hold to continue packing. But she stopped him again with a firm grab of his wrist and the single use of his name.  
  
     “We need you here.” His mother said, using her other hand to guide Lance’s eyes back to her.  
  
     “So do these people.”

     “I don’t care what these men say! You wanted to see the stars and that’s what you trained for. You are a cargo pilot, you are not a soldier, let alone a man! So, don’t you dare start acting like one and die.” She screamed, making Lance flinch and tried to pull away but the grip on his hand grew.  
  
     “We can't go out there alone. Not with your Abuela and Abuelo.” Lance closed his eyes, willing the tears away and refusing for his voice to waver.  
  
     “You got Luis, Marky, and Veronica to help you.” He said. Lance could already see his mother’s hurt and desperate eyes in the dark.  
  
     “Take us with you then.” She pleaded.  
  
     “Mama-”  
  
     “ _No_!” She hissed. “ _You_ listen to me.”  
  
     Her grip was like a vise, too painful now to ignore, forcing his eyes open to her as she spoke.  
  
     “We are family and we are staying together. I don't care what the Garrison is telling you, you are staying. I am not having my baby leave me and I never see him again.” She turned his body to face her and forget his packing.  
  
     “Understood?” She asked.  
  
     “Yes, mom,” Lance said with a nod, head low. She cupped his cheeks, bringing him down so that his head was tucked into the crook of her neck and so that her arms could wrap around him without her having to stand on her toes.  
   
     “Familia stays together no matter what.” She whispered into his crown, rubbing her hands up and down his back like it was the middle of the night and Lance had woken from a horrible nightmare.  
  
     “I'm going to tell everyone to pack now so we can leave together.” She said and with a nod in response, she kissed his crown and left.  
  
     When she left his room, Lance emptied his bag and started walked as fast as he could around the house. Instead of clothes or personal belongings, Lance filled his bag and many others with food, blankets, water, small camping gear, and things for hygiene, and first aid. The only things Lance allowed himself to have was the jacket his cousin gave him and his phone.  
  
     Within the next half hour, they were on the highway along with the thousands of other families trying to reach one of the camps.  


*** * ***

  
     It's easy for hope to get crushed and for panic to sweep you off your feet like a tidal wave. It's easy because nothing is more powerful than a world outbreak of a disease that kills and keeps killing.  
  
     When the car had hit the freeway, there was traffic; of course. Lance had to calm his mother and grandparents fears of not making it to Canada. It wasn’t easy but, eventually, they grew quiet, in unease. Barely moving every few hours wasn't helping either. By nightfall, they'd barely moved a mile.  
  
     “Lance, why haven't we moved?” His mother asked from the passenger seat as he sat behind the wheel. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing his eyes.  
  
     “I don't know, Mama. There are a lot of people and the Garrison can only go so quickly.” He sighed, tired from sitting for hours and the pressure of fear. His mother tied her hair back in a bun from the summer heat and turned to face the rest of the family. Lance followed her gaze in the rear view mirror to see his siblings tense in the back, grandparents holding each other, small whispers and kisses, and his father reaching for his mother’s hand.  
  
     “I’ll go see if anyone can tell me what’s going on,” Lance said, unbuckling the seat belt and turning the radio on.  
  
     “Look and see if there's a broadcast or something from the Garrison while I’m out.” With the slam of the car door, Lance walked out of the van and jogged over two where others had stepped out of their vehicles.  
  
     “What if it’s so bad they weren’t able to send a message?” A woman whispered, clutching her blanket as she faces two others.  
  
     “What if they aren’t letting everyone in?” She shuddered, glancing back at her car where her three kids waited expectantly for her to return.  
  
     “First the hospital, then the Garrison trying to fix everything to only highlight how they've found out how everything is worse, and now this mess!” The second woman groaned. “Either something bad happened or they're not letting people in.”  
  
     That was when Lance decided to step in.  
  
     “Excuse me, ladies,” Lance said, giving a little wave to the troubled women. “Do you happen to know why we haven’t been moving?”  
  
     “I don’t know sweetheart,” Said the third woman. “It’s all been word of mouth from whatever is happening up there. All we know is that we’re not budgin’.”  
  
     “Okay, thank you,” Lance said, he waved to the kids in the car before continuing on but received nothing new. No one knew why the road had stopped moving and everyone thought it was because something bad had happened.  
  
     As if that hasn’t already happened, Lance thought as he returned to the car.  
  
     Before Lance could close the door, his family bombarded him with questions.  
  
     “What’d they say, Lance?”  
  
     “Why aren’t we moving?”  
  
     “Is everything all right?”  
  
     “Guys, Guys!” Lance yelled, waving his hands at them. “Hold on.”  
  
     “It’s all word of mouth about what’s going on. People are starting to panic because all that’s definite is that we’ve stopped moving.” He reached over and took his mother’s frightened hands.  
  
     “ _Mom_ , we’re just in really bad traffic, everything is going to be all right.” The fear left her eyes and was replaced with something misted from Lance’s grasp. She sighed and held onto his hand while he answered the other’s questions; eyes upon the shadows gleaming through headlights. Almost like she was making sure they weren’t monsters.  
  
     It was right around then when everything really went South.  
  
     “What are they doing?” Cried Lance’s mother.  
  
     All eyes in and outside the McClain car followed her gaze to the city up in flames. Military planes flew overhead and stirred the fire which then stirred panic on the highway.  
  
     The people standing outside their cars squaked, pointing at the burning city. Children cried for parents, babies cried for silence, and Abuela cried for The Lord.

     “We’re all going to die.” She whispered, aged hands, shaking for her lover’s as they rocked through a prayer.  
  
     “Mijo, _drive_.” Ordered Lance’s mother.  
  
     “Mom, the city is on fire, the house is probably gone. We should stay on the road for the Garrison.” Lance said, eyes unsure about where they should look. The fire, his grandparents, the road, his siblings, the wheel, the trees, his parents, the gas mileage, the monsters.  
  
     “Oh my God.” Lance gasped, feet hitting the pedals, as he turned the car off the highway and sped in the opposite direction. He tried to ignore the screams he was leaving behind and focus on getting home without those things getting to them first. He tried to forget about the kids in the car not making it out. He tried to forget about the women, the families that had someone they were trying to protect and just drive.

  
*** * ***

 

     The end of the world changes people. Lance expected that; the world was already filled with bad people even before everything went down. But, even after warning them about the shady looking group, Lance followed his family into The Galra; the stupidest name the leader, Sendak, could have come up with but Lance wouldn’t dare say so.  
  
     Sendak’s six feet, scarred eye, amputated arm, and razor teeth had Lance avoiding any eye contact as much as possible. Even Sendak’s crew was just as intimidating with the same gnarly features as their leader. He and his followers were enough to have the McClain’s obedient.  
  
     That is until Sendak shot Blue.  
  
     “She would have made too much noise if those things came.” He said, nonchalantly which struck a row with the rest of the family. They yelled that Blue was loyal to the family and would listen when told to. Lance thought the same argument, but his words were left unsaid because Blue’s lifeless body was a sign.  
  
     Things were different now.  
  
     The world isn’t safe.  
  
     They’re gonna kill us.  
  
     I need to protect them, Lance thought as he kneeled beside his faithful dog.  
  
     Holding a paw, Lance remembers how he would joke Blue favored him over everyone else. She would listen when he called, follow Lance without the need of a leash, wherever he went, her eyes were never far behind. If there was any sign of Lance in danger, Blue was there, ready to lay her life for Lance.  
  
     But now she was dead and none of those things would ever happen again.  
  
     Her death and from the swarm of walkers they took down, Lance could tell The Galra had no problems with killing. This theory is proven more so when the group told Lance and his family to gather the food, water, weapons, and useful objects in the house before aiding in runs for similar necessities.  
Each of them was handed a knife and told,

     “Aim for the head, that’s what kills them,” which made Lance’s blood boil.  
  
     How were his grandparents supposed to defend themselves! He wanted to scream. Their aged hands, fragile limbs made them susceptible targets. Time had taken their once strong bodies and full height to make them defenseless creatures. Images of their possible gruesome deaths swam in Lance’s mind; daring him to be bold.  
  
     “I want a gun,” Lance ordered, gesturing to a spare strapped around one of the men which caused followers to laugh and for Sendak to sneer.  
  
     “You’re pretty full of yourself aren’t ya, kid?” Sendak chuckled, darkly.  
  
     “Not if I know what I’m doing,” Lance stood his ground and, though he hated it, looked into Sendak’s eye. “Which I do.”  
  
     “Boy Scouts taught me how to use a gun and, if I were a leader, who wasn’t full of himself, I’d have all my best men with the right tools.”  
  
     “You better watch your mouth, boy.” Hissed someone behind Lance, the crunch of gravel alerting Lance of the implied threat.  
  
     “No, no, Traz,” Sendak said, stopping the man in his tracks, eyeing Lance with methodical eyes.  
  
     “Hand him the gun from yesterday.” Traz, Lance documented, handed Lance a familiar looking gun. Looks like police officers, Lance observed which was the same used in Scouts. Before Traz let go of the gun, he twisted Lance’s wrist in a painful position, knocking Lance to his knees; gun falling from Lance’s hands  
  
     “You try anything and _this_ ,” The hold tightened, forcing a whine from Lance’s throat as Lance tried not to cry. “Will be the least of your problems.  
  
     And it was because as the McClain’s progressed into their newfound lives among The Galra, Lance saw another layer of sinister with the death of his grandparents.  
  
     After gathering the needed materials from the once beloved home, they drove off in stolen vans. Leaving Blue’s body for the Walkers, according to Ladnok, and Abuela and Abuelo's garden to whither to dust. The fear of survival was strong as Lance and his family quickly learned how to dig their knives into the walking corpses as well as Lance to prove his point, on the rare occasion he used the gun. According to The Galra, Walkers were attracted to noise. So, guns were only for important instances.  
  
     One such instance was when a Walker had caught onto Abuela’s arm in its attempt to rip her flesh. The rest of them were too far away, already loading into the vans, to have run and used their knives. And in a flash, Lance wiped out his gun and shot the monster right where it stood. Abuela ran to her lover’s arms and sobbed into his shoulder while Ladnok grabbed Lance be the throat and started choking him.  
  
     “ _What_ the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” She hissed, taking out her knife and holding it to Veronica’s throat when said sister was about to pounce on Ladnok.  
  
     “We told you guns were if it was important.” The gun had long fallen from Lance’s hands in favor of gripping the large hand wrapped around his throat as he gasped for air; feet spazzing for release.  
  
     “He was just saving, Abuela!” Cried Marco, taking a hesitant step towards his brother but stopped, scared Ladnok would tighten the hold on Lance.  
  
     “We can’t go around making bullets!” Ladnok roared, finally tearing her eyes from Lance to the rest of his family.  
  
     “And finding them is hard enough.” The dagger by Veronica’s throat moved to point at Abuela and Abuelo. “Those old sack of bones are going to be our downfall if little Prince Charming over here doesn’t know when to make the right call.”  
  
     “STOP IT!” Screeched Lance’s mother.  
  
     “Please,” she gasped. “You’re going to kill my baby.”  
  
     Glancing at Lance, Ladnok took notice on the weakened grip on his hands against her and how his feet were now limply twitching against her own. She tisked before releasing Lance, watching him fall to the ground and gasp for air. His hand clutching his shirt as his body shook. She kicked the gun towards him before climbing into the car, forcing the rest of the McClains into the car until Lance was the only member of the group outside a car.  
  
     “Hurry up,” Ladnok said. But when Lance could barely grab the gun and get on his feet, she yanked him by the shirt from the back seat and shoved him the car with the slam of the door. As the sped away from wherever they had gone too, Lance faintly heard the groans of Walkers alongside Ladnok’s warning.  
  
     “Waist another bullet again and it goes through that person’s head.”  
  
     Lance never used another bullet because when his Abuela and Abuelo needed his help, Ladnok placed one hand around the back of his neck and squeezed, her gun extended and already taking aim. At his grandparents, not the Walkers.

  
     “It’s your choice kid, every bullet you use is every bullet I shoot.”  
  
     His hands fell from where his gun was held, Ladnok pushing him towards the vans, as he screamed ‘I’M SORRY’ as many times as he could.

  
  
*** * ***

  
  
     Lance wished it ended there. But then his mother got bit.  
  
     They hadn’t known until she showed them after the run for the day. She hadn’t seen nor heard the Walker from the bathroom and, before she knew it, a mouth had latched onto her shoulder.

     “Oh my God,” Luis gaped. “What do we do?”  
  
     “Papa kills me.” Breathed their mother as she handed her husband Lance’s gun which she had asked for when they safely sneaked into the woods parked next to the vans.  
  
     “Amor-”  
  
     “ _Don’t_ you _dare_ back out of this. We all know what happens if we get bit, let alone scratched. And I’d rather my life be taken by family than _them_.” The gun was shoved into his hands and Lance watched as his father struggled to take the safety off. He watched as his mother sat against the trunk of a tree, waiting for their last goodbyes, doing this for them. But the goodbyes never came because the safety never came off.  
  
     “I can’t.” He whispered, gun in his hands falling limply to his side as he kneeled before his love.  
  
     “I can’t take you away.” His spare hand cupped her cheek.  
  
     “I’ve already been taken, amor.” She said, but no matter how much she pleaded the gun never raised. It angered her, it pained her. She cursed him for not doing the right thing, for helping her die the way she wanted, ‘For thinking of our children!’ Lance and his siblings watched as their parents quarreled for the last time.

     "Don't you dare do this to me." She hissed at her husband who held the gun in his hands with shaking fingers. Tears streaked down his face like a heavy shower.   
  
     "You promised me!" She sobbed. Lance's father crumbled, lowering the gun, and shaking his head.   
  
     "I can't." He whispered. Lance's mother sobbed, looking around the trees like there was an angel to save her. She searched and searched until his mother’s eyes fell upon Lance.

     "Please, mijo." She whispered, raising her hands for her child.

  
     “Please, mijo, my baby,” She begged, cradling the sobbing head of her husband as she looked to Lance with pleading eyes.  
  
     “ _Rosa_ , you can’t ask him.” His father hissed, but she ignored him.  
  
     “My baby, I’m sorry,” She sobbed.

     Lance blinked away his tears and shifted past his siblings who stood stock still; shocked of the night's events. His father looked up at him, his mother smiling on the ground. Lance walked over to his father and gently took the gun from shaking fingers. He then knelt down, on both knees, by his mother's side. Her warm hands reaching out to cradle his face. With his free hand, Lance held onto one.  
  
     “Please," She whispered. "I need you to do this for me, please.” 

  
     “I love you, mama,” Lance whispered, flicking the safety off, a tear falling down his face. Loving hands wrapped themselves around Lance as she gazed at him like a mother would; with love.  
  
     “I love you Lance,” She turned her gaze towards her lover and her children one last time.  
  
     “I love all of you, don’t forget that.” Lance shivered as he raised the gun to her temple.

     He leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead and waited a second longer. He waited so, for the last time, he could drink in the last hug from his mother. The last "I love you" from her lips. The last hold of her soothing strokes of her thumbs. The last glimpse of the life in her eyes. The last time he would hear her, see her, hold her.

     "I will see you in heaven one day." She whispered into his ear. A promise she didn't want too soon. Lance sobbed. She held him tighter.

     "You need to watch out for your siblings. I know that's a lot to ask of you; you're so young." She whispered, so only he could hear. "But your Papa needs help."

     Lance promised.

     He would never let anyone else die.

     No noise, no words left his lips as he pulled the trigger, when her arms fell limp. Lance was as quiet and as lifeless as his smiling mother.  
  
     “We have to leave.” Whispered their father, waving his hands for them to walk ahead of him.  
  
     “They’ll be here soon.” He placed one last kiss on her hand and whispered one last promise to her before following his children back to the cars where he watched his children explain to Sendak why only five of them were left. And he watched in disgust how The Galra nodded their heads in approval of Lance’s actions.  


 

*** * ***

  
  
     Lance knew that when their father died, it wasn’t an accident despite Throk’s report.  
  
     It had been a special run. Not because there was a reward or purpose behind it but because the party involved Traz, Ladnok, Throk, their father, and no one else. Going against Sendak’s rule that every run was done as a whole. It was special because only their father was missing upon return. It was special because he had died being careless and unobservant of his surroundings.  
  
     “He probably couldn’t cope without your mother and let it happen.” Throk shrugged, absentmindedly.  
  
     “But don’t you kids worry.” Throk grinned, wrapping his arms around the four of them.  
  
     “We’ll take care of you.”

 

*** * ***

  
  
     “Do those shitheads honestly think we believe dad died because of mom?” Veronica hissed to her siblings, trying not to be heard by other Galra members adjacent to their van which, surprisingly, had been left to just the four of them.  
  
     “How are we going to get by without mom and dad?” Marco whispered. “ ‘Take care of us?’ More like ‘kill us.’ “  
  
     “Marci’s right,” Luis said, looking at the eldest for guidance.  
  
     “What do we do Veronica?”  
  
     “We run away.” All their eyes went towards the direction of Lance in shock.  
  
     “Just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean I’m the dumbest.” quipped Lance.  
  
     “I’m the one that got one of those _shitheads_ to give me a gun on the first day.”  
  
     “Okay, wiseguy,” Luis whispered. “Where are we running away to?”

     Ignoring his brother’s jab, Lance scooted closer towards his siblings to be heard through their hushed voices.  
  
     “Remember whenever we went to visit Hunk, in the city, we’d always pass by those houses hidden in the trees?”  
  
     “What about them?” Veronica questioned.  
  
     “There was always this old house or farm, maybe, there was definitely a house and a lot of open land and fences around the place. It’ll probably be abandoned by any owners and if there are Walkers we can take them out and get rid of them.”  
  
     “When do we leave?” asked Marco.  
  
     “Now,” Veronica said, moving towards the driver’s seat.  
  
     “Won’t we get caught though?” whispered Luis, quietly shuffling towards the passenger seat but Veronica had already turned the engine on, the car rolling its way back onto the highway.  
  
     “It doesn’t matter, I know what farm Lance is talking about and if we stay with them we’ll be getting farther away from it. It’s only a couple miles from here.” But Luis had his eyes trained behind them, as well as his other brothers, waiting for The Galra or a Walker to ruin their escape. But none came and only until the camp had left their sights, only then did Veronica turn on the headlights and the four of them relaxed.

 

*** * ***

  
  
     To their pleasure, it was indeed a farm.  
  
     The house looked promising, there was a shed, fencing, open land, animals still in their cages. It was perfect. Veronica drove the van up to the side of the house, turned it off, and looked at her brothers in the rear view mirror.  
  
     “We're here,” With that, the four of them climbed out of the car to then be lectured by Veronica.  
  
     “Take out your knives.” She ordered.  
  
     “We know how to use them.” quipped Luis which earned a smack to the head much to Lance and Marco’s amusement.  
  
     “We’ll King of the World, I’m the oldest and I want my brothers to be ready if anything should come at them.” She then looked them once over, knives ready, before gingerly walking to the front door.  
  
     Before any of them made a move for the door, Veronica knocked on the wood beside the screen door. Something she hated to admit to having observed from The Galra to make sure no Walkers were inside. They heard nothing, but she warned them that it didn’t mean nothing was inside.  
   
     Moving the screen door for each of them to sidle through, they moved as quiet as a mouse. Peeking around corners and carefully making their way from the doorway.  
  
     “Should we split up?” Lance whispered, noticing there was a staircase up ahead.  
  
     “Be careful, we all meet right here after we’ve looked around.” With a nod, they split up.  
  
     Veronica walked into what looked like a kitchen, Luis, and Marco each into a bedroom, while Lance walked over to the stairs.  
  
     He looked up to the lazy, sunlit top of the stairs, dust dancing in the light from an open window. With a deep breath, he carefully climbed the stairs, his eyes dancing everywhere for any sign of life...or death. He came across neither which he hoped was a good sign and would occasionally stop making his way up the stairs to see if there was an out of place noise. But he always came up empty handed, recognizing the sound of each sibling’s footsteps through the house and no others.  
  
     When he made his way to the top of the stairs, he found that only one room was open to his immediate right. Looks like a bathroom, Lance observed.  
  
     Carefully, he sided against the wall and with a deep breath, peeked his head around the corner, and everything turned black.


	2. Mullet is an asshole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry! You all don't know how bad I feel for taking SO LONG to post this second chapter :'( 
> 
> It takes a real long time to write another 4, 402 word chapter XD. I am determined to keep each chapter uniform.
> 
> I do promise though that the third chapter is in the works as of now. 
> 
> If ya'll re still here, Hi! I'm so happy you're back and hope I didn't disappoint :) It means so much to me that you are reading this and are staying on this journey with me

     It was loud, well, _something_ , was loud. Somewhere beyond Lance’s blanketed vision, voices bounced through the darkness. Gathering his bearings against his throbbing head, Lance gradually distinguished the voices  of his siblings alongside the others.

     Opening his eyes, Lance was met with a well worn couch. Lines and broken fraying fragments peered at him as Lance shifted in his fetal position to feel the aged cushions hugging him snugly. By shifting, Lance then felt the contrast of ruff throw pillows against his cheek and ankles. Along with a quilt which had been thrown like an afterthought over his body; the fabric barely attempting to cover his legs and too close to his neck to provide any comfort. Blinking his eyes and rolling away from the back of the couch, Lance began to see the room he was in, in full.

     The wooden panels differed between chipped and frayed to nearly smooth with age; similar to Lance’s memories of home. Homemade curtains draped over two large windows where the fading fire of daylight peeked through. The simmering light brought shadows of the coming night, inviting Lance to drift once again. But as Lance blinked away the dust of sleep and held his aching head, the abstract illusion of home gave way to overwhelming bewilderment.

     This _was not_ home.

     At home, the couch was grey, not brown. The curtains were see-through, from abuela’s attic, compared to the blankets hanging from the rod. At home, there was a carpet on every floor because the wood was no longer new and gave splinters to any who walked it. At home, there were family photos across the walls and tables with forgotten objects, waiting to be picked up. At home, there weren't any pictures of a man with a crooked smile and a boy with pitch black hair.

     This disoriented realization had Lance throwing the blanket to the side as he rolled off the couch. When his feet hit the floor, Lance’s knees instantly crumbled. His knees hitting the floor with a smack as his upper body laid propped against the couch.

     At the commotion, the voices instantly stopped.

     “Good, he’s awake, you can leave now.” Said a stern voice. Following after came the sound of footsteps coming from around the corner and towards Lance.

     Quickly, Lance rose to his feet. One hand cradling his head and the other on an armrest.

     The first person Lance saw was, well, a boy. He looked to be around Lance’s age from his height and coming of age features like the set of his jaw, and the stretch of his shoulders. Despite having never met the boy until today, Lance was shocked to find he recognized the latter. He was the boy wrapped in the arms of a crooked smile.

     Admittedly, the photo showed a much younger boy. Maybe seven or eight years old but the long, black hair was unmistakable. It still splashed against the frame of his face like it was unsure of where to fall. Those eyes were stern and blank, paired with the same set jaw. Like he’s never smiled before, Lance thought.

     But, before any thought could surface Lance had an armful of Hunk. Or, rather, Hunk had a handful of Lance because Hunk tackled Lance into a crushing hug.

     “Lance!” Hunk cried, literally and verbally. The sight of Lance bringing him to tears and the overwhelming need to wrap his arms around Lance and lift the latter off the ground.

     Looking down, Lance was surprised he hadn’t heard Hunk, his best friend, sprinting down the hallway among the others to reach him. But Lance didn’t care about the unnoticed in Hunk’s arms.

     “Hey, buddy,” Lance mumbled, hands awkwardly flapping around by his side to pat Hunk, a smile spreading wide against Lance’s face as he looked down at Hunk. As Hunk squeezed Lance closer, Lance looked up to find a pair of scowling eyes and four observers.

     “ _Hunk_ , if you’re done with your reunion, I want them gone; _now_.”

     “Keith, dude,” Said the other stranger. They wore glasses almost too large for their face with far messier hair than the boy, Keith. Her hair was chestnut and didn’t go any further than her chin. She was much shorter than the rest of them which, Lance assumed, was because she was younger than them by a few years.

     “I’ve already made my point clear, Pidge.” Keith said, staring Lance down. “I want them gone.”

     With tense shoulders, Hunk gently placed Lance back on the ground and turned to face Keith. Lance couldn’t see his friend’s face, but based on Keith’s surprised expression, Lance guessed Hunk looked intimidating.

     “They’re not leaving, Keith. You don’t know Lance like I do. If you did, you’d know that all _this_ ,” Hunk waved his hands around to emphasize the literal Hell currently on Earth. “Wouldn’t change him.”

     Keith clenched his fists at his sides with furrowed brows. His eyes held so much anger, so much frustration, Lance thought Keith was about to set ablaze. But no fire came as Keith unclenched his fists and took deep breaths in and out.

     “And I already told you, you don’t know that.” Keith growled, eyes now burning holes into the wooden floor.

     Pidge sighed with a shake of her head. “Hate to break it to ya cowboy, but, you spent an hour arguing. If you really wanted them gone, you would have done something by now.”

     Keith turned his attention to Pidge and opened his mouth to retaliate but then closed it. He eyed Pidge and Hunk before scowling back at Lance.

     “They better not get comfortable.” Keith said with a huff, turning on his heel and walking out of sight. His footsteps treading up a flight of stairs and behind a slammed door.

     “Pidge.” The shorter said, extending a hand towards Lance which he shook with a smile.

     “Have we met?” Lance inquired, searching his memories for a short, brunette with lopsided glasses. Pidge simply shrugged with a crooked grin.

     “We have now.”

 

*** * ***

 

     Don’t get Lance wrong, he was _extremely_ grateful Keith caved and allowed Lance and his siblings to live on the farm. Had Keith stayed true to his word, Lance doesn’t know what would have happened to the four of them. Each night, Lance falls asleep to what could have been. So, everyday they did their part around the farm and on quick runs into town. Every time they showed Keith their worth and reason for trust. But, each time, Keith held his disdain for the four McClain’s.

     Working as a team, the seven of them tended to the animals, the garden, and checked the fencing. Despite the farm’s isolated location they made sure to be quiet to not attract Walkers coming to their sanctuary. If one were to have wandered into the open field, that surrounded the farm, they were quick to get rid of the problem. Other than farm needs, town runs were just as breezy and quick. But despite their work, Keith continued to keep his distance from the new residents; much to everyone’s annoyance. Not only did Keith rarely bond with Hunk and Pidge, but, with the addition of the McClain's, he isolated himself further.

     To bond with Keith was to tame a wolf. If one were to attempt conversation, Keith would seemingly ignore answering unless it related to farm or run needs. Something Lance found incredibly annoying. Especially because of the lack of trust Keith still had for Lance and his siblings. Keith was critical of them; snippy. He constantly searched for any flaw the McClain’s had to prove his original point.

     “He’s just so annoying.” Lance complained to Red, Keith’s beloved and favorite horse, as he ran the brush through her mane.

     Today, to avoid Keith’s critical eyes, Lance had stayed by her side for an hour and was now feeling the cramp in his wrist and a burning ache in his bicep. With a sigh, he dropped his arm and rolled his shoulders to which Red responded with a shake of her head for him to continue brushing her.

     “He doesn’t like me,” Lance grumbles as he raises his hands to continue brushing Red’s now smooth mane which she already knows. She’s enjoying the extra attention, Lance observes with some exasperation mixed with a dash of endearment.

     “Like, I get it, it’s the end of the world. People are going to go crazy but its been at least a month! The guy has to see that we’re good, right? He’s just being stubborn at this point.” Lance groans, dropping his hands with the roll of his shoulders. He pats Red’s neck before tossing the brush into the box outside her stall.

     “You’re the only good thing that comes from these chores.” Lance tells her and he means it.

     Out of all the horses, Lance knows Red better by association to Keith and also because she only allows Lance or Keith to come close to her.

     In the beginning, before the McClain’s joined the farm equation, Keith checked the fences and wells, Hunk checked the garden, and Pidge checked the animals. But, the only animal neither Hunk nor Pidge could come near was Red. She refused for the two to come close to her; else she’d cause a fuss. But, when Lance, Veronica, and Luis came along, everything changed.

     Keith tended to the fences and wells with Luis, Hunk and Marco tended the garden, and Pidge, Veronica, and Lance teamed with the animals.

     Lance still remembers their first day put to work because the look on Keith’s face was _priceless_.

     Pidge had been showing Veronica and Lance the run through for the animals. How to clean their pens, how to feed them, and what to look out for, for their well being. During this walk through, she had repeatedly told them, in advance, the rules for the horses.

     “They’re the only ones where checking on them is different.” Pidge said, closing the gate of the chicken pen, gesturing for the two siblings to follow.

     “How so?” Lance inquired, glancing at the lively pigs and sluggish chickens once more before facing forward. Ahead of them, was the horse pen which was much larger than the others to house five horses.

     “Red, Keith’s favorite, doesn’t let anyone else touch her. Hunk and I have tried to check her stall and stuff but she starts going crazy.” Pidge explained. Lance hummed in response, wondering what Red looked like and how she would react to seeing the three of them pamper the other horses.

     Doesn’t she ever feel jealous? Lance wondered. Red was being ignored by everyone but Keith. How does that make her feel? She’s isolated, alone; on an island no one can reach. Even if anyone wanted to find her, the journey was too much for it to be worth it.

     That seems sad, Lance thought, solemnly. The cloud of gloom following him into the horse pen with a brush and rake in hand as he walked all the way to the back.

     They had agreed Pidge would start in the front, Veronica the middle, and Lance in the back of the pen. With Pidge’s experience with the animals, she would easily move down the pen and help them finish quick. This being how Lance found himself taking care of Red.

     Something, Lance thought, was _not_ his fault because he never heard Pidge say _which_ horse Red was. Plus, Red wasn’t even red; she was black!

     When Lance opened her stall, Red hadn’t bucked or whined. Instead, Red peered at him with curious eyes. With her head lowered, she sniffed him chest up before snorting in his face. Plastering a wet-something all over Lance’s face.

     “Thank you, gorgeous.” Lance laughed, wiping his face, to which Red nickered.

     Lance had placed the brush on the floor and Red instantly moved aside for him for Lance to scoop and toss out the sullied hay. All the while talking and petting a _sweet_ and _passive_ horse who enjoyed and preened at the attention. _Obviously_ , not Red.

     So, when Pidge started screaming, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH RED,” Lance was at a loss for words.

     “She’s black, not red!” Lance blubbered, waving his hands in the air in exasperation.

     “I said that!”

     “No, you didn’t!”

     “Dude, you must have zoned out because I totally said that. Even your sister can vouch for me.” Pidge said, gesturing to Veronica who nodded her head in agreement.

     “Well, well,” Lance fumbled, looking between Red and Veronica and Pidge. “She never bucked or whined when I came to her!”

     Pidge simply shrugged her shoulders in response. The shock finally dispersing from her face to a wolfish grin.

     “I can’t wait to tell Keith this at dinner.” She said, rubbing her hands together mischievously, looking between Lance and Veronica.

     To say, Keith reacted was an understatement. When everyone’s attempt at small talk failed, over dinner, Pidge almost couldn’t hold back her excitement when she blurted,

     “Lance groomed Red.”

     Instantly, Keith’s head shot up to look at Lance with wide eyes. Keith’s mouth was agape as he struggled to comprehend her comment. Everyone watched with keen eyes between Lance and Keith to see what would be said and what would be done. When neither boy spoke, Hunk and Pidge began to ecstatically whisper to each other about the event while the rest of the McClain’s either shrugged their shoulders or rolled their eyes at Keith’s reaction before returning to their meal. Leaving Lance and Keith to continue to awkwardly stared at the other, waiting to see if the other boy would even _speak_. But no words were said as Lance watched Keith, blink and open and close his mouth in a stuttering silence. Flush burned against each other’s cheeks as Keith prolonged his silence.

     “She’s a cute horse.” Lance mumbled before looking away. He wasn’t sure, but Lance thought he heard Keith choke out a thank you.

 

*** * ***

 

     You’d think, after that, we’d be on good terms, Lance thought begrudgingly. But, no, no amount of teasing jokes, conversation starters, and the fact Red _only_ accepted Lance and Keith could lure the latter beyond his concrete wall. Keith continued to keep his interactions with everyone to a minimum while keeping hawk like eyes on their every move.

     Sucking Lance’s jacket into her mouth, Red drew Lance out of his thoughts and towards the slobber soaking the sleeve.

     "Stop it." Lance scolded, moving her head away from his hood. But she was undeterred, moving her mouth everywhere. From his sleeve to the hood, Red made her way to the pockets; sniffing and nibbling his jacket with the occasional nudge in her search for treats.

     "I already fed you. You've had enough." He chides, backing away. He puts the brush away and walks out of her stall as she whines, shaking his head.

     “I spoil you too much.” Lance says to himself, closing the stall on a pouting Red. She huffs and flings hay in the air to show her disappointment. Laughing, Lance relishes in Red’s childish behavior before heading back to the house. Red’s antics dying with the distance.

 

*** * ***

 

     “Where’d you get the gun?” Keith inquired, startling Lance from tending to the chickens.

     Having started the morning with the horses, the longest task for the three, Pidge and Veronica had agreed to pair for the pigs while Lance tended the chickens. So, not expecting anyone but fluffed feathers, Lance was surprised to turn around and see Keith’s silent figure on the other side of the chicken wire.

     “My family and I had been with a group before yours and I convinced them to give me a gun.” Lance said, quickly turning away from Keith and to the chickens. He didn’t want Keith to see whatever emotions may surface at the mention of The Galra.

     “How’d you manage that?” Keith chuckled, the chicken wire bouncing around with a new added weight. Most likely due to Keith leaning on it but Lance refused to turn around and look.

     “I’m an Eagle Scout and we used to go to gun ranges, sometimes, so, I learned how to handle a gun.” Keith hummed in response before going quiet inside his own thoughts which Lance took to his advantage. He used Keith’s silence to allow himself to think about doing work and not The Galra or family.

     “Hunk says he trusts you.” Keith said, breaking the silence and drawing Lance’s eyes to where Keith leaned against the wire.

     Keith had his arms crossed over his chest; the sleeves of the black t-shirt tugging against toned arms. Untamed wisps of black were pulled back in a tight ponytail which was paired with a worn baseball cap. The Sun was still yet to glare against a day’s worth of work and Keith already shone with sweat. Fingerless gloves were blotched with mud and grass as well as Keith’s forearms. His black jeans were stained from ankle to knee with similar substances, impressing and irritating Lance.

     “With his life, he says.” Keith added. “And he wants me to feel the same.”

     “Look, dude,” Lance started.

     “I get you don’t trust me or my siblings, I mean, look at the shit that’s going on.” Lance joked, laughing awkwardly when Keith only stared.

     “But we’re not bad people.”

     At that, Lance saw Keith, struggle, to refrain from rolling his eyes; drawing anger, frustration, and desperation from Lance because Keith was being unfair. Look, Lance got it, it's the end of the world and people are going batshit crazy. But not _everyone_ was going batshit crazy! Ever since Keith knocked Lance to the floor and took his gun, Lance, his siblings, Hunk, and Pidge tried to showcase this truth but Keith refrained from acceptance.

     “Everyone says that,” Keith remarked, pushing himself off the chicken wire to stand up straight and stare Lance down.

     “You’re not any different.”

     Keith was entitled to his opinions, he was allowed to be cautious and suspicious in this damned world. People were no longer people, either monsters of a plague or of their own creation. Nowhere was safe, no one could be trusted, and the world before was left to dust. In such little time, the end of the world had destroyed civilization, so, Lance got it; he’d do the same.

     But…

     “How do you know that?” Lance asked, moving towards Keith so that the only thing that separated them was the fence, startling the other boy.

     “You don’t know _anything_ about me and my family. You don’t know what we’ve had to do to get here. You don’t know what kind of people we are. If you actually paid attention and cared, you’d  see we’ve been showing you who we are through our work, on runs, and when it’s dark out.”

     “I know enough.” Keith mumbled, eyes shifting around and behind Lance’s face, thumb fiddling against his middle and pointer finger. Lance could sense his unease and desire to flee.

     “You- _What_ do you know?” Lance hissed, stepping closer to the fence. So close that Lance could feel the brush of air leaving Keith’s nose each time he breathed.

     “Enough,” Keith responded, stepping away from the fence and retreating.

     Lance watched in frustrated awe as Keith quickly walked his way towards the horses. He was so dumbfounded, Lance almost kicked one of the chickens in his attempt to run out of the chicken coop. His feet pounded and slipped on the dewy field as Lance gave chase after Keith.

     “Oh, no you don’t!” Lance yelled, when Keith began to run. Quickly, Lance grabbed Keith by the back of his shirt; pulling Keith towards him.

     “Get _off_ me!” Keith roared, twisting around in Lance’s hold while the other struggled to keep his hold on Keith’s shirt. He kicked, punched, grabbed, and yanked anything he could of Lance to wiggle free. Their ruckus making the horse whine and buck with unease. But the noise and fear of the horses went to empty ears as the two boys continued to fight. Keith continued to twist away, his shirt gradually being pulled up and over his head.

     “Talk to me you asshole!” Lance yelled as Keith slipped out of his shirt and sprinted to Red who continued to whine and bang in her stall.

     “Hey, girl, hey there.” Keith crooned, raising his hands for Red to inspect with her nose. Her once frazzled and frantic attitude subsiding once Keith cupped her face.

     “I’m okay, sweetie,” Keith promised, rubbing up and down her face in slow, sweet strokes. Red let out an occasional whine and nicker, breaking from Keith’s hold to sniff his chest and face before returning to his soothing hands.

     “I’m okay.” Keith whispered to her, pressing a kiss to her head. He continued to stroke her head before opening the door of Red’s pen.

     As soon as Keith got her saddle on and untied her, Red was quick to walk out of the pen and fully inspect Keith. She sniffed and licked where his skin was exposed, certain spots more than others where she felt there were cuts. Her teeth gently nipping against Keith’s earlobe and hair.

     Keith gently pushed her face away, trailing his hand down her side to signal Keith was going to hop on. When he knew she understood, Keith grabbed hold of the harness and with one kick off the ground, Keith swung onto the saddle.

     “Let’s go,” He told her, ruffling her mane before pinching her side.

     But Red never moved.

     Well, she _did_ , just not where Keith wanted her to.

     Instead of trotting outside, Red made her way to Lance. As she did with Keith, she sniffed and licked Lance all over, nipping the curls of Lance’s hair, and earlobe.

     Keith nudged her away, encouraging her to leave the horse pen but Red stayed still. She flipped her hair and turned her head to Keith each time he made her move.

     “What's wrong, Mullet?” Lance taunted, scratching Red’s ear.

     “Having lady issues?”

     Keith replied with a glare.

     “Don’t be upset,” Lance crooned, balling Keith’s shirt up and throwing it at him. It hit Keith in the face and fell into his lap where Keith picked it up to put it back on.

     “Thanks asshole.” Keith grumbled, seething at Lance rubbing Red who was practically keening at the attention.

     “If anyone’s the asshole, it’s you.” Lance says.

     “I give you an A minus. Mullets don't give you good marks for Intimidation.” Lance said with a wink and wicked grin.

     “Why are you like this?” Keith groaned, pinching Red’s sides to get her moving. _This_ time, she moved and slowly walked out the opened doors towards the open field.

     “See you later, Baby!” Lance said with a wave.

     “ _Don’t_ call me that.”

     “I was talking to Red.”

 

*** * ***

 

     Things were different after their exchange. For one, Lance got his gun back.

     Keith, like before, had approached the chicken pen in silence. He then stood there without saying a word until Lance finally turned around and faced him which, of course, startled Lance. _Yes_ , Lance will admit, he may have yelped but it was only natural! Keith did it on purpose, Lance suspected, from the way Keith’s twitched to their own accord; eyes warm to unfamiliar mischief.

     “Do you really want me to take your shirt off, again?” Lance huffed, embarrassed by the noise he just made but, the flush and twist of Keith’s face made Lance feel some sort of vengeance.

     “I wanted to give _this_ back.” Keith said, pulling out Lance’s gun from a back pocket and placing it on a nearby pile of bricks.

     “When your done with the chickens, I want you to come get a horse and go on a run with me.”

     That was another thing, Keith and Lance had started going on runs together...with Red. Yes, their party consisted of three. Why? Because, everyone grew to realize, Red would _not_ stand for Keith and or Lance to ride any horse that wasn’t her. In other words, to the others, utter bullshit when every trial and error had led to one boy wrapped around the other.

     On these runs, and unmistakable and powerful bond had blossomed between Lance and Keith. As time passed, they grew to understand and learn, not only, of each other’s past but quirks that made them an individual. Gradually becoming in-sync, they were quick to appear by the other’s side when an unusual noise or silence came from one of their positions. Knife in hand, without fail, Keith or Lance would be there the instant something felt off. It was unmistakable and unnoticed.

 

*** * ***

 

     Red huffs when Lance swings himself onto Lily's back, making Keith smile. She's jealous, Keith thinks with amusement.

     "Come on." He says and with a nod from Lance, they trot to the nearest town for more food, water, and medicine.

     The trip is filled with familiar silence, sporadic small talk, the occasional walker, and Red's huffing as they rode into town. However, Keith’s original amusement towards Red’s antics turned into frustration when Red continuously edged towards Lily in a not so friendly nudge.

     "Stop it." Keith chides, but she shakes her head as she huffs; attempting to nudge Lily again who has learned to step to the side on these attacks.

     "What she doin’?" Lance asks, he too thinking Red's behavior to be silly but for a different reason; assuming playfulness between the two horses. But Lance grew worried for Lily when Red’s nudges seemed to grow in harshness.

     Leaning close to Red’s ear so only she could hear, embarrassed if Lance heard him, Keith scolded Red once more.

     "We can't always ride together." Red responded with a huff and an attempt at smacking Keith with her mane.

     "Stop it." Keith hissed at her.

     "Keith?" Lance called, hoping for an answer.

     "I think she's jealous you aren't riding her." Keith replies, shaking his head at her stubborn attitude. The truth of Red’s actions towards Lily had Lance near to giggles as he looked at Red.

     "Are you really jealous of Lily, Red?" A deliberate stomp and huff from Red making Lance smile. But despite Red's "answer", Lance turns to Keith with a teasing smile.

     "Or is a certain someone disappointed I'm not holding him?" Heat shoots to Keith's cheeks as he returns Lance's gaze with a frown.

     "Excuse me?" Keith grumbles, _really_ hoping his cheeks were already red from the Sun before Lance's comment.

     "You aren't using Red as an excuse to say you miss me over there, are you?" Lance grins, gesturing to the open space behind Keith.

     " _No_ ," Keith says, focusing his eyes forward again. "she really likes you so she's probably jealous of Lily getting your attention."

     Lance strokes Lily, admiring her mane, nodding his head.

     "I can't believe you're jealous of a horse, Keith." Lance says, looking back at Keith, a playful smile daring a rise from Keith.

     "Why would I be jealous of a horse?" Keith asks, his cheeks slowly calming down as familiar banter between them starts up again.

     "Because you like me." Lance croons, making something inside Keith jump and flip off a cliff. The strange feeling of discomfort and want making his aflame and hands warm and sweaty. He doesn't say anything for a while which makes Lance clear his throat in discomfort.

     "I was just joking." Lance says, trying to laugh it off to which Keith grunts in reply, not sure what to say or what not to say.

     "Joke gone too far." Lance mumbles to himself, unaware Keith heard him.

     The trip continued in silence to the town and back.

     Once back at the farm, Keith felt disappointment at Lance’s rare silence as the latter returned Lily to her stall. Keith glanced at the other boy  as Lance took off her saddle, brushed her down, and gave her fresh food and water before walking away. All the while, Lance completely avoiding eye contact and conversation. This distraction causing Red to nudge Keith to continue his work on her, but Keith edged away.

     "This is your fault." Keith tells her before returning his attention to Red. Once finished, Keith looked around the stable for Lance but the other boy was gone.

     He felt disappointed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I'd love to hear from you all :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I also want to give a big thanks to the many people who have enjoyed my past works and shared that joy to me! It means a lot and I can't tell you how happy it makes me to know that ya'll liked them :)
> 
> Thank you! :)


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